First Deductions
by BlueSkye12
Summary: Caroline Paige 6 lb 4 oz. 18" Come at once, if convenient. If inconvenient, come anyway. JW


_**First Deductions**_

_Caroline Paige_

_6 lb 4 oz._

_18"_

_Come at once if convenient_

_If inconvenient come anyway_

_JW_

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Sherlock received the text at 6:17 am February 11th which was sixteen days before Mary's due date. Surprising. He had previously deduced that a woman of Mary's age and stature would be no more than three days early and up to five days late. He was still sequestered in one of Mycroft's safe houses, his elder brother unwilling or unable to let him return to the comfort of Baker St. Consequences of his actions. Dull. Still, it was better than being hunted down across Bulgaria he supposed. Nonetheless Sherlock was prepared for this day. He removed his dressing gown, dismantled his ankle monitor and easily slipped past the guards. He should have two hours before Mycroft would feel compelled to return him to his dungeon.

Sherlock bluffed his way onto the ward by giving the duty nurse his most engaging smile and a load of shite about having travelled non-stop from Thailand to be back for his niece's birth. He stopped in the open door way to Room 247. Exhausted Mary was sound sleep in her hospital bed. The toll of nineteen hours of labour was softened by the hint of a smile playing on her face. John sat in the chair by the window, his hair golden in the early morning light streaming through the window. His exhaustion was superseded by a look of abject wonder as he gazed at the small bundle of blankets in his arms. He looked good, so right, so natural holding this new life. John's smile grew even wider as a tiny pink fist fluttered above the blanket. Inexplicably Sherlock felt something tighten in his chest. He cleared his throat awkwardly and John looked up still smiling.

"Sherlock, hi. Come on in." They hadn't seen much of each other since Sherlock's return from 'exile'. Partly because of Sherlock's house arrest but mostly because of the practical necessity of keeping the expectant father away from any possible line of fire. Sherlock swept into the room and John stood up still cradling his daughter. He planted a ghost of a kiss on her forehead as he did so. The motion looked so practised, so natural, so John.

"I'd like to introduce your to someone," John was standing next to him now holding the bundle out for him to see.

"Sherlock, this is Caroline." Sherlock peered cautiously into the bundle. The pink face was round like John's but with Mary's nose an chin. He smiled as she yawned and squirmed.

"Would you like to hold her?" John asked earnestly. Sherlock looked terrified but John continued.

"Come on, don't worry, she won't bite."

"Of course not. She can't bite, she hasn't any teeth yet. Children's milk teeth typically erupt between 7 and 12 month but ..."

"Sherlock, sit down. Take that bloody thing off first." John nodded to Sherlock's coat. The detective quickly removed his beloved Belstaff and his jacket, too, carelessly tossing them both on to one of the visitor chairs, all without taking his eyes off the baby.

"Sit," John commanded. "You do know how to hold a infant, don't you? At least in theory?" he added with a smile.

"Really, John, I am quite ...," any further exposition Sherlock was going to make was lost. No sooner had the detective sat when John carefully handed his daughter over to his best friend.

"Keep you arm under her head. That's it. Just relax."

Sherlock was dumbstruck. Now that he was holding little Caroline Watson he could see both how tiny and how beautiful she was. He raked his Holmesian gaze over her. She wasn't squished or puffy. She was pink and perfect and she was staring back at him from under her purple polka-dot knit cap. Sherlock actually knew that newborns couldn't really focus yet but still she was looking right at him. He gently stroked her cheek. He had never felt anything so soft. Then he stroked her little hand. Tiny, perfect fingers closed around his pinky. Finger nails! She had absolutely perfect little finger nails. Words, like text on a screen, began floating around his head.

_Left-handed. Blue eyes. Soft. Perfect._

"She's got ten toes, too," John smiled as he leaned in to lift the blank and prove the fact. Sherlock ignored him. He still had not said a word but the deductions continued to flow as his stare intensified.

_Blonde. Clever. Amazing. Cheeky. Independent, Brilliant._

"Want me to get your magnifier out of your coat?" John teased breaking Sherlock's focus.

"What? Oh don't be ridiculous John. I was just ... " He left that sentence hanging, too, because Caroline yawned and stretched with a face that was just like her father's.

_A Miracle._

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A/N – So I just had to write my baby Watson story cuz I am really afraid of what Series 4 & 5 has in store for the Watson family. In the canon, Mary dies and there is no baby ... Exactly the kind of emotional torture Moffatt and Gatiss dream about.

Not beta'd or Brit-picked.

I don't own anything.


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